


These Dreams

by ellispark



Series: Codas [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 14x09 Coda, And by fun I mean sad, Angst, M/M, Michael!Dean, Post-Episode: s14e09 The Spear, Season/Series 14, Takin a fun trip inside Dean’s mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 06:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16989840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellispark/pseuds/ellispark
Summary: Sam and Castiel get separated inside Dean’s mind, and painful truths come to light.





	These Dreams

“Where’s Dean?” Sam asks, and, as if summoned by the words, a wall of water rushes into the blank space in Dean’s mind and sweeps both Sam and Cas off their feet.

Cas isn’t human, and he doesn’t need to breathe, but he still knows what panic feels like. He kicks and claws uselessly as the dark flood pulls him under, down, away from Sam. His head surfaces for just a moment, enough time to hear Sam yell, “Cas!” And then he’s back under again.

He told Jack to watch over them, to wake Sam up if he appeared too distressed. He didn’t ask Jack to wake him. So Cas closes his eyes and lets the current carry him away from his friend, deciding that to fight it might be worse. Is this what Dean felt, the last time Michael took control? Underwater, struggling, unable to stop the fear of drowning even when he knew it wasn’t real? Cas doesn’t need to breathe. He reminds himself of this as the endless tide rushes on, sweeping him deeper into Dean’s mind, holding him under for far longer than any human would be capable of surviving.

When the dark first gives way to light, Cas almost doesn’t notice. He’s so focused on trying to keep calm the appearance of a surface, the sun shining into the deep, takes a moment to register. Once it does, he kicks as hard as he can for it, gasping as he breaches the surface. Even angels _like_  to breathe.

The moment he does, everything around him changes. Cas is no longer in the water, and the sun is no longer shining. The ocean gives way to a dark motel parking lot, void of cars and lit only by a single, sputtering sodium light. Cas spins in a short circle, trying to catch his bearings. This place holds no significance for him. It could be any one of thousands of motels Dean and Sam have slept in throughout their lives, nameless and meaningless. But it has to mean _something_ , or else why would the flood spit him out here? 

Just as he’s wishing Sam were with him, Cas hears a door open across the lot. A little boy is leaving one of the rooms, shutting the door softly behind him. He’s quiet as he walks out into the night, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He casts a quick backwards glance at the door, as if to make sure he’s not being followed, then turns toward Cas. When the boy spots him, he stops cold.

Cas knows then _who_ he is, if not where or when or why.

”Dean?”

He’s so young. He can’t be more than nine, ten years old. His cheeks are red and streaked with tears, and Cas can’t help but say, “Are you alright?”

Dean takes a step back, fear in his eyes as they dart from Cas to the safety of his room behind him.

”Who are you?” His voice is shaky; he is so, so young — but he’s still Dean. Always trying to appear tougher than he is. “How do you know my name?”

“Dean,” Cas says again, hands up and placating. “It’s Cas. Sam and I are here to bring you back.”

”Bring me back?” Young Dean says, and for a moment he flickers — Cas’s Dean stands before him, brow wrinkled, eyes lost — and then he’s back to this past version of himself. “Sam’s with you?”

”Yes,” Cas says, encouraged that the boy doesn’t seem so afraid anymore. “We got separated. Dean, we’re inside your mind. You’re reliving memories while Michael keeps you under.”

”Michael?” Dean swipes at the drying tears on his cheeks and Cas wonders what day this is, what happened here to make Dean cry. What happened to make him vulnerable enough he’ll stand in a parking lot and talk to a total stranger just because said stranger called him by name. 

“The archangel,” Cas says, and Dean flickers into himself again. But this memory is stubborn, and the little boy comes right back. 

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean asks, and his eyes dart to the motel room. “Is he okay?”

”He’s fine,” Cas lies. “Why don’t you come with me? I can explain everything, so you’ll remember.”

”I can’t leave Sammy again.” Dean takes another step back toward his room. “Dad’ll kill me. He—” Dean abruptly stops talking, and he pulls his arms in closer to his side, as if to shelter his small body from his father’s wrath.

Cas has a sinking feeling he knows what memory they’re in.

”Dean,” he says carefully, “did the Shtriga attack Sam tonight?”

Dean can’t seem to look him in the eyes. He stares somewhere past Cas’s shoulder as he says, “How did you know that?”

_”The first time he ever got rough with me was when I was ten.” Dean rolls the glass in his hands, and the whiskey sloshes inside. Cas watches, silent. Waiting. “I left Sam alone while Dad was on a hunt. Shtriga came after him while I was out. When Dad got back, he yelled at me. ‘I told you not to let him out of your sight!’” Dean takes a deep drink. “We left that town that night. But not before he grabbed me and kinda shook me and said, ‘Your only job was to watch him!’ Left bruises on my arms. I never told Sam. Went out to the parking lot and bawled my eyes out while Dad was packing up. He never said anything about me going out there with a monster around. Never said anything about the crying.” Dean stares at the liquid pooling in the bottom of his glass. “Never said anything at all.”_

The rage comes over Cas like the wave that crashes into this empty motel parking lot, washing everything away.

///

The next time he surfaces, Cas knows exactly where he is.

Dean is hunched over, kneeling in the dirt, his face buried in his knees. His shoulders are shaking. Cas has seen this before, but he saw it in Heaven, watching impartially with his garrison at his back. “This is Dean Winchester,” Zachariah said with a sneer in his voice, “right after he sold his soul to Hell. He’s also the first seal, and your next mission.”

He did not care about Dean then beyond feeling a vague frustration at another myopic human selling their soul for something impermanent at the risk of the entire universe. He cares now.

”Oh, Dean.” The crossroads is quiet, and Dean looks up at his voice, falling backwards into the dirt in shock. Cas doesn’t think Dean ever told Sam or Bobby what happened right after his deal — that he didn’t rush back right away to see his resurrected brother, that instead he fell to his knees and surrendered completely to his fear and anguish.

_“It’s the most scared I’ve ever been,” Dean says, and Cas places his hand on his shoulder. “Even worse than when Sam died, because I knew I could fix that. But I couldn’t fix my deal. I couldn’t fix me.”_

“I already sold my fucking soul,” Dean snaps, scrambling to his feet. “You don’t get to walk back my deal, Constantine! If you’ve got a problem with it, take it up with your lady friend!”

”Dean.” Cas sighs. Still unaware of what’s happening, then. “I’m not a demon. And I’m not Constantine.”

Dean has a gun pointed at his chest before Cas can say anything else. He holds up his hands, trying to remain non-threatening. Cas doesn’t think Dean can kill him here, in his mind, but he’s not about to take any chances.

”It’s me,” he says uselessly. “Castiel. Cas. Dean, this is over. It’s a memory. You’ve lived it already. Michael is—”

”What the fuck are you talking about?” Dean cocks the gun, his face screwed up in anger and pain and fear and all his other messy, human emotions, and Cas just wants to hold him. He wishes he could spare Dean all that comes after this.

”Dean—” Dean’s hands are shaking. _“The most scared I’ve ever been.”_ There must be a better way to serve him here, in this moment, than to wake him up into another nightmare. Cas makes his choice. “I promise you, you will not stay in Hell.”

”How do you know?” Dean demands, and he doesn’t point the gun away but he also doesn’t pull the trigger. “Who are you?”

”I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from peridition,” Cas says, and he can’t help but note how tired he sounds. So much has changed since the last time he said those words to Dean. “I’m your guardian angel.”

Dean rears back, and he flickers again. This time Cas is prepared for the water to consume them both.

///

“Dean?”

They’re in a hospital. Cas doesn’t want to look at the body in the bed, but he can’t help it. Bobby Singer lies there, hooked to a half dozen machines, breathing only with the help of a tube forced down his throat. Dean is sitting next to the bed, his head in his hands. He looks up, and the gaze he fixes on Cas is murderous.

”You haunting me now?” His voice is hoarse, raw from yelling or crying or both. “You gonna tell me how I always fail the people I love? Or maybe, I don’t know, you’d like to apologize for this, ‘cause this—” He grits his teeth, and Cas flinches, “—this is on you!”

”Dean,” he says again, helpless. They never really talked about Bobby after Cas came back. Cas was afraid to bring the old man up. He was afraid of this.

”Jesus, I need to stop drinking.” Dean closes his eyes and presses the heels of his hands into his eyelids, trying to will Cas away.

Cas doesn’t wait for the flood, and he doesn’t try to explain what’s happening to Dean. Cas walks out of the room, and the darkness comes to carry him off anyway.

///

He is swept past many moments, some he knows about, some he does not — Dean and Sam at Charlie’s funeral pyre, Dean beating the Impala with a tire iron, Dean losing his grip on Cas in Purgatory. He sees Dean letting Gadreel possess Sam, sees Dean taking on the Mark of Cain, sees Dean watch Sam fall into the Pit with Lucifer inside him.

Cas is beginning to see a pattern, but the flood never stops.

///

When it does stop, it’s at a memory Cas is not familiar with.

Dean is sitting in his room in the bunker, headphones on, staring blankly at the wall. There are tears in his eyes and a dozen beer bottles littering the nightstand and the floor. Cas moves into his line of sight, unsure of what to expect this time. Dean blinks, and then he smiles.

”Hey,” he says, pulling the headphones off. “Good dream tonight, huh?”

”Dean,” Cas starts for the tenth time, but Dean is already pushing off the bed. He comes to stand right in front of Cas, falling into him suddenly, his arms tight around Cas’s middle. 

“I miss you,” Dean says into his shoulder, and _of course_. These memories are all about times when Dean felt helpless, when he couldn’t protect himself or those he loves. In this memory, Cas is dead.

”You don’t have to anymore.” He hugs Dean back fiercely, holding him in the way he always wants to but never seems to be allowed to. “This is not real, Dean. I’m real. I’m alive. I came back to you.”

”What?” Dean stiffens, and there it goes again — he’s changing, pulsing between this moment and the last moment Cas saw him, when his eyes burned blue as Michael took over again.

”Come back to me,” Cas says, and this time the water pours on them from above.

///

Cas comes to outside of a bar. He rubs his head uselessly, staring at the dark windows in front of him. He’s never seen this place before. Dean goes to a lot of bars. This could be anywhere, any time.

”Cas?” 

He turns around and there’s Sam, wide-eyed and shaken, standing in the parking lot with him.

”Sam,” he says, relieved. “Are you... you? The Sam who came into Dean’s mind with me, I mean?”

”Yeah, I...” Sam shakes his head. “I’ve been getting tossed around in here for what feels like hours. I’ve seen Dad die, me die, you die. Dean’s head is—” Sam’s mouth opens and closes, lost for words.

”Not a welcoming place,” Cas finishes, “and I’m afraid we haven’t seen the worst of it yet.”

Sam nods, face drawn and grim. They both turn to the bar. Cas can hear faint strands of “Lonely is the Night” coming from inside.

”I don’t know what memory this is,” Sam says. 

”Neither do I.”

They walk in together.

The bar is dark, lit only by the buzzing neon signs lining the walls. It’s also empty, save for a man passed out at the far end of the counter and —

Dean smiles at them when they walk in, tossing a dish rag over his shoulder.

”Hey fellas,” he says, “can I get you a drink?”

”No.” Sam moves to position himself in front of Cas, who watches anxiously over his shoulder. “We’re not staying here, Dean. And neither are you.”

Dean pulls a face at this, slapping the rag against the counter with a wet splat. “Uh, yeah, Sammy, I am.”

”Dean, you’re trapped inside your worst memories. You can’t possibly want this. Come with us, and you can be free of Michael. You can go home,” Cas pleads.

Dean raises his eyebrows at Cas. “Maybe I don’t want to go home,” he says, petulant. “Maybe Michael’s shown me what happens if I do.” And he tilts his head toward the drunk collapsed at the end of the bar.

Now that’s he’s actually looking, Cas recognizes the set of those shoulders and the color of the hair, the freckles spattered across the back of the neck.

”Is that—”

”Me? Yeah, Sammy. Future me.” Dean leans against the counter. “Always knew I was a few drinks away from an AA horror story, right?”

“This isn’t possible,” Cas says, shaking his head. “Michael can’t know your future.”

”Really, Cas?” Dean fixes him with a glare, and there’s an anger in his eyes not unlike what Cas saw in the Bobby memory. “So Michael couldn’t know about your deal with the Empty and how you’re gonna leave me again, right when we’re finally happy together? He couldn’t show me how you die and leave me like this?” Dean points an accusatory, shaking finger at his passed-out self. “He couldn’t show me how I lose it with you gone, again? How it makes me sloppy on hunts and how I get Sam killed? How Jack can’t stand to be around me anymore, so he leaves? You think he couldn’t show me all that?”

”Cas,” Sam says, “what is he talking about?” And Cas has no words to explain himself, no words to deny his deal. No words to wipe away Dean’s anger or Michael’s made-up but all-too-possible future.

”I thought so,” Dean says, and his eyes glow bright blue. _Michael._ “Oh, Castiel. I shoved him into every terrible moment in his life but this—” He laughs as he sets his hand almost tenderly on the neck of the unconscious Dean, the real Dean. “This future is what convinced him to give up and stop fighting.”

“Don’t touch him.” It’s all he can say. 

Michael smiles. It’s nothing like Dean’s smile — too cold, too calculated. There is no love behind it, only smug superiority.

”I didn’t have to,” he says simply. “He did this to himself. Or, you did.”

Michael holds out a hand and sends them both flying across the room. He shakes his head when they try to get up and laughs when Sam lunges at him. He knocks Sam down, then turns and snaps his fingers at Cas, flinging him into a pool table. Michael does this again and again, until neither of them can get up anymore, bruised and bloodied on the bar floor.

But Michael falls silent when the real Dean stirs and says, “Sam? Cas?”

Dean’s bloodshot, confused eyes focus on Cas for only a moment before Michael is standing in front of him, blocking Dean’s view of the destruction surrounding him.

Michael smiles as he shoves Dean down to the ground, raising his foot to bring it down on Dean’s head.

”No!” Sam shouts through his bloodied teeth, and Cas yells, “Dean!”

Their distress must be obvious from the surface, because this is the moment Jack chooses to wake them up.

///

“We’ll get him back.” Sam twists his hands together. “We just have to come up with another option.”

Cas doesn’t respond. Jack is in the room watching them anxiously, and he doesn’t want the boy to know what they saw in Dean’s mind before he woke them. 

“We’ll fix it,” Sam says. “We’ll fix all of it.”  
  
Cas knows that last part is directed at him. He can’t look Sam in the eye.

”We have to fix it.” Sam leaves the room without another word, and Cas feels Jack’s eyes on him. He’s waiting to see if Cas will say anything, and when he doesn’t, Jack follows Sam into the hall.

Cas sits there, alone, staring at his hands. He thinks of Dean’s dark memories, all his helpless moments he’s reliving again and again. He thinks of how many of them were caused by him, all the suffering he’s put Dean through. The Empty is a fool. With all of this guilt hanging over him, Cas suspects he’ll never be truly happy, even if they can save Dean.

”Some things,” he says to no one but himself, “can’t be fixed.”

But knowing them — knowing the Winchesters — they’re going to try until they die anyway.


End file.
